


Fire Drill

by Dilly_Oh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, Humor, Indecent exposure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dilly_Oh/pseuds/Dilly_Oh
Summary: I am going to kill Phichit, Yuuri thought to himself darkly, feeling eyes on him from all angles in the crowded parking lot. The thin towel around his waist was already soaked and clung to him, plastered to the curve of his buttocks like a second skin. Thank god this wasn’t a co-ed dorm, he didn’t think he could handle girls staring, giggling at him from behind their hands. Now, how to go about his diabolical plan of getting even for this. Perhaps he’d kidnap Phichit’s hamsters and hold them for ransom-“Are you cold?” a voice asked from behind, melodiously thick with a Russian accent.





	Fire Drill

**Author's Note:**

> Yuuri gets stuck outside during a fire drill in nothing but a towel. Enough said.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri was going to kill Phichit.

His roommate had stolen the only good shower stall on the entire floor, leaving the only other options of the stall with puke in it, two that were perpetually out of order, one that spewed scalding lava-water that produced third-degree burns, and a final one that was clogged with nasty hair so that it slowly filled, eventually spilling over the side and flooding the rest of the bathroom in retaliation.

Which was why Yuuri had to settle for showering at a little past midnight, too tired and sweaty from a late dance recital to just throw himself into bed and pass out for the night, ripening till morning. To make matters worse, Phichit was fond of taking hour-long showers, complete with 12-step exfoliation and a thorough head-to-toe regimen. Although, to be fair, Yuuri could simply go and use one of the other floor’s shower stalls in the dorm, but being a freshman on campus made the prospect quite terrifying. Yuuri aired his grievances to his roommates hamsters, which were surprisingly good listeners, staring up at him with shiny black eyes and twitching their noses every now and then in response. Yuuri gave them some cheerios for having to put up with his belly-aching.

Precisely an hour later, Phichit finally swanned in, wearing his fuzzy pink bathrobe, towel wrapped around his head like a turban, his skin practically glowing. Yuuri just glared wordlessly at him and stormed by in a huff, towel and shower-bucket in hand, closing the door rather firmly behind him to voice his displeasure (but not too firmly, it was quiet hours, after all, he didn’t want to be rude to the other students and slam the door, that was just insensitive). He’d also eaten all Phichit’s doughnuts as punishment, even the icky ones with sprinkles, and left the crumbs scattered all over his bed as a blatant warning. That would teach him. There had been a lot of donuts and Yuuri felt a little sick but _that would teach him_.

Yuuri finally began to relax as he stepped beneath the showerhead, the warm water spraying over him, washing the lingering sweat and irritation away. Clenched muscles began to loosen, the ache in his stomach fading while he mindlessly hummed a tune and soaped up.

He had just finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair when the fire-alarm started screeching, blaring klaxon-like through the bathroom and hallways of the dorm. Yuuri yelped, jumping in fright, and immediately slipped and went down. Scrambling out of the shower on all fours, he stood, untangled himself from the wet, clinging curtain, reached back in to slap the faucet off, and groped for his clothes. The siren wailed on, disorienting, pounding into his ears and shaking his brain to jelly like the music in the club Phichit had once persuaded (forced) him to go to – never again. Phichit still didn’t believe him when he swore someone had pinched his ass.

Dammit, where were his clothes? He’d left them right there on the bench, folded up in a neat pile with his glasses on top. Even half-blind, Yuuri could see that they were just… _gone_. But how? Had they fallen, or someone-

Oh no. Phichit. Revenge strike for the donut-pocalypse. It was the only explanation. It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Yuuri groaned. Not this. Not NOW. A horrible thought came to him. Had Phichit taken the towel, too? He couldn’t see- glasses. He needed his glasses. Surely Phichit had left those, he wasn’t _completely_ heartless. Squinting, he reached out searchingly for them, almost sure he could see a small, dark blur on the bench to his right-

His hand hit something solid, and he heard his glasses fall and skitter all the way across the floor, hidden in one of the dark shadows by the wall.

Screw it. They weren’t worth his life.

Yuuri lurched forward and felt something soft beneath his toes – his towel! It’d fallen to the floor, and while rather grossed out, he wasn’t about to run out of the bathroom naked. He’d take what he could get. Now he just needed to duck back into their room, grab some clothes, plot Phichit’s downfall, and run out of the building with everyone else. Easy.

Hurrying towards the door, Yuuri managed to wind the towel around his hips and make himself decent (as much as he could half-naked, anyway). Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and-

Was immediately engulfed in a rushing stream of students heading for the stairs. Yuuri fought, trying to swim through the crowd back up the hall towards his room, but the pull was too strong and he was buffeted along, carried away in the current. The alarm was louder in the hallway, deafeningly so, and Yuuri could do nothing but go lax and follow the flow of students as he was pulled down several flights of stairs, through the front entrance, and out of the building. He gasped as he stepped outside, the cool night air slapping against his chest and making his skin prickle all over. The mass of students broke like a wave as they retreated a safe distance from the building, spreading out as they milled around, chattering to one another. Yuuri stood in the midst of them, hugging himself tightly.

Dammit, he’d never find Phichit in this crowd, especially without his glasses. Everyone looked like face-less blurs. At least he had managed to lose his freshman fifteen after joining the dance club, even earning the starting shadows of a six-pack, but it was still maddeningly self-conscious to be standing outside in the middle of a crowd in nothing but a drenched towel. The water droplets still clinging to him had cooled, and the night breeze wasn’t helping any, sending a shiver up Yuuri’s spine as a particularly forward draft of air slipped up under his towel and tickled his nether-regions.

I am going to _kill_ Phichit, Yuuri thought to himself darkly, feeling eyes on him from all angles. The thin towel was already soaked and clung to him, plastered to the curve of his buttocks like a second skin. Thank god this wasn’t a co-ed dorm, he didn’t think he could handle girls staring, giggling at him from behind their hands. Now, how to go about his diabolical plan of getting even for this. Perhaps he’d kidnap Phichit’s hamsters and hold them for ransom-

“Are you cold?” a voice asked from behind, melodiously thick with a Russian accent. Yuuri startled, nearly losing the towel, and whipped around.

A tall blurry form stood there, waiting patiently for a reply. Yuuri could just make out dark pants, a red-and-white track jacket, and silver hair-

Oh. Oh shit. It was the Russian exchange student, the ridiculously hot one that was here on some kind of scholarship, skating or hockey or something, Yuuri couldn’t quite remember because his brain had stopped working after he saw his face. He could body-check him through a wall any day- no, stop it, Katsuki, completely wrong time and place. Focus. He’d asked a question, hadn’t he? Right, okay. Answering might be a good idea.

“N-no, I’m fine,” Yuuri stuttered, swiping his wet bangs out of his face and squinting. The Russian blinked, his mouth falling open a little. God, he must look awful right now, like a cold, drenched rat. He hiked the towel up a little higher and sucked in his gut. “Thank you, though, um…”

“Victor,” the other supplied, extending a long-fingered hand. Yuuri couldn’t see but suspected the nails were perfectly manicured. “And you are…?”

“Katsu- I mean…Yuuri.” Yuuri went to take the hand, missed, flushed red, then managed to catch it on the second attempt and gave it a weak shake. Victor’s hand was delightfully warm, and Yuuri held it perhaps several seconds longer than necessary. Just because it was warm. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Victor answered, smiling, and Yuuri cursed himself for ditching the glasses, then Phichit for causing this whole mess. Next time he wouldn’t stop at doughnuts – he’d eat all the ice-cream and leave the empty carton in the freezer just to mock him. Oh, God, ice-cream. Yuuri shivered at the thought.

“You ARE cold,” Victor said, his tone chiding.

“Maybe a little,” Yuuri admitted, rubbing at the goose-bumps that had broken out along his arms. “It’s fine, we’ll head back inside soon enough-”

“Would you like my jacket?” Victor asked suddenly. Yuuri gaped at him, too stunned by the offer to respond for several long moments before his brain finally kicked in and told him, ‘ _yes, he really just said that’_.

“Oh, no, please, I couldn’t-” he began in a rush, frantically shaking his head. “I’m fine, honest!”

“I insist.”

“No, no, really, I’m all wet, I’ll-”

Someone wolf-whistled.

“…Yes, please,” Yuuri squeaked out, his face burning hot. Victor chuckled softly and slipped the red-and-white track jacket off his shoulders, holding it out like they were going on a date. Flushing even darker, Yuuri turned and gratefully allowed Victor to slip the jacket on him, shuddering a little at the leftover body heat. The jacket was obviously too big for him, the long sleeves falling over his hands and, when zipped up, the bottom hem fell to mid-thigh, hiding the towel entirely. His long, pale legs were still visible, but it was a far sight better than just a towel.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, smiling up at Victor, who had been staring in silence. The Russian made a funny choking sound, maybe he had something caught in his throat. Yuuri tugged at the hem nervously. “Are you sure you don’t need it?”

“I’m fine,” Victor answered, roughly clearing his throat. Beneath, he only had on a dark blue t-shirt, tight enough to outline every inch of him. His arm muscles flexed as he shrugged nonchalantly. “This cold is nothing compared to where I come from.”

“Really? That’s a relief.” Yuuri laughed, adjusting the collar. He felt something catch between his fingers and paused, bringing his hand up and squinting hard. He could just make out- hair. It was a hair. Brown, very curly, very shiny, and very obviously a woman’s. Why would Victor’s jacket have-

Oh. Girlfriend.

Yuuri felt his heart plummet.

“What’s that?” Victor asked, leaning in to see the hair. “Ah, probably from Makkachin.” He smiled, his face glowing with love and pride. Yuuri could see it even without his glasses. It made his stomach ache even worse than the doughnuts. “Would you like to see a picture? I’ve got hundreds of the two of us.” Dammit, he was already pulling out his phone.

“O-of course!” Yuuri forced out, dying a little inside. Of course he had a girlfriend, the man was a Ken doll come to life. Yuuri resigned himself to seeing albums of him and Barbie canoodling in their Dream House. Victor stepped closer, pressing against his side and holding up his phone. Yuuri took a deep breath and forced his eyes up. On the screen was-

A large brown poodle.

…What.

“Isn’t he handsome? I miss him so much. I just saw him over break and haven’t washed my jacket yet, so his hair’s still all over it.” Victor was babbling like an excited toddler, his eyes shining.

WHAT.

“Look, here he is taking a bath!” He swiped left and Yuuri was suddenly treated to a picture of Makkachin hanging half-way out of the tub, Victor in tight, wet black shorts, wresting him back in. Yuuri inhaled sharply through his nose. “And here’s when I took him to the beach!” Makkachin was frolicking in the sand, Victor standing nearby, wearing nothing but a pair of shades and a tiny speedo. Yuuri choked. “And here’s a candid of us sleeping together-” Victor was _definitely_ naked beneath those sheets, oh dear God-

“Your girlfriend is a poodle,” Yuuri blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. Shit, he didn’t mean to-

Victor threw his head back and laughed, long and loud. Yuuri watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, mesmerized, his eyes unable to move from that long, graceful column. Finally Victor recovered, still chuckling to himself and wiping at his eyes.

“I…suppose that _is_ true, in a way,” he admitted with a shrug.

“I am SO sorry,” Yuuri whispered around the sleeve still pressed to his mouth. “I…I didn’t mean to-” He paused, sniffing. What… _was_ that smell? And where was it coming from? It was faint, but rich and tantalizing. Some kind of cologne? It tickled Yuuri’s senses, teasing like a lover. It was…it was…

It was coming from the jacket.

“Something wrong?” Victor asked, and Yuuri realized he’d been gaping down at the jacket in a daze.

“No, sorry, it just smells,” Yuuri said, then realized what he’d just said. “No! I mean, not like a _smelly_ smell, like bad, I mean smell like a _good_ smell, a really good smell, actually, wait, no, I mean-”

Oh God, this was horrible. Here he was babbling like an idiot and making a fool of himself in front of this Russian God of Ice. The only thing he needed was for Phichit to come barging in and take a picture-

“Yuuri! Smile!” Phichit’s voice sang.

Yuuri whirled about and was immediately blinded by the flash of Phichit’s phone, cursing in Japanese and staggering back. He hit something solid, and a warm, surprisingly strong arm slipped around his waist, supporting him.

“Careful,” Victor murmured right in his ear, breath hot against his cheek, and Yuuri bit back a shriek.

“Oh man, this one’s _definitely_ going up on the blog!” Phichit chuckled with delight, tapping away at his screen. Yuuri growled, wanting nothing more than to snatch that damned phone away and chuck it into the bushes.

“What blog?” Victor asked, sounding strangely interested.

“Nothing! Don’t mind him!” Yuuri waved him off before grabbing his roommate’s arm. “Phichit!” he hissed. “Give me your jacket so I can return Victor’s! I’ve soaked it enough!”

“Um, congratulations?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” Yuuri shook him. “And get out of that jacket! I need it-”

“But you look so _good_ in that one!” Phichit protested, looking him up and down. “The colors of mine wouldn’t compliment your pale complexion _nearly_ as much.”

“I agree,” Victor added.

“That isn’t the- wait, what?” Yuuri did a double-take, then shook his head again to clear it. “Phichit! Just give me your coat before I rip it off along with your arms-”

“Yuuri.” It was the first time Victor had actually said his name, and it sent a thrill up his spine and a wave of heat through him, warming his body from head to toe. The way he dragged it out, long and low, how he’d said it with such familiarity, as if he’d known him all his life. Yuuri froze, mouth hanging open and gazing up at him in a state of shock. Victor’s smile was gentle, but firm. “I truly don’t mind you wearing my jacket. It’s no problem at all. _Da_?”

“ _D-da_ ,” Yuuri replied weakly, fumbling over the foreign word. He forced himself to keep his gaze, even though it turned his stomach to jelly. “Thank you, Victor.”

“Fire drill’s over!” a voice called from the front of the crowd, breaking the spell. They all turned to see an RA stood on the steps, waving everyone back into the building. “You can all go back inside now!”

“Oh my God, _finally_ ,” Phichit groaned. “They’re lucky it was just a drill, I’d sue the entire campus if anything happened to my babies.”

“…They’re in your pockets,” Yuuri pointed out, noticing the little wiggling bulges.

“They might have gotten smoke inhalation. Don’t test me.” Phichit started after the crowd with as much grace as one could with hamsters stuffed in their pockets. Yuuri rolled his eyes at his drama queen of a roommate.

“At least this horrible night is almost over with,” he muttered, took a step forward, and immediately stumbled. Viktor grabbed his arm to steady him just as something damp and cold fell around his ankles.

Everything froze.

Dear God, please let that not be-

“Oh, you dropped your towel.”

… _FUCK_.

Yuuri’s face was so hot it hurt, his skin prickling all over in sheer mortification. As if the night hadn’t nearly bad enough, now he was standing barefoot in the parking lot with Victor’s jacket his last claim to decency.

“…Victor, I am so, SO sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Victor said happily, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact that Yuuri’s unmentionables are now rubbing against the inner fabric of his jacket. “I bet it feels better like that, huh? Breezier?”

Yuuri attempted a laugh but it came out as more of a dry gurgle. He desperately tugged at the hem of the jacket, but it refused to fall any lower than his upper thighs. He couldn’t even bend over and pick up the towel without flashing half the dorm, how would he ever-

“I’ve got it.” Victor stooped and picked the towel up like it was nothing, draping it over his shoulder like a butler. “Ready? Let’s head in.”

“Um…” Yuuri hesitated. He almost didn’t dare move, afraid the movement will make the jacket ride up even higher. Experimentally, he took a very small step forward. No sudden scream, laughs, or rude pointing, just Victor standing there, patiently waiting for him. So good so far. Yuuri took another step, more confident this time. All right. He could do this. He entered the front doors of the dorm, Victor holding the door open like a gentleman, and stepped into the front lobby before he looked up and realized his mistake.

_Stairs_.

He could not do this.

“Hmm. That’s a problem,” Victor said, sounding oddly delighted. “I can walk behind you,” he offered. “Block the view?”

That was _so_ much worse.

“Elevator!” Yuuri yelped, relief washing over him in a giddy wave as he remembered that the dorm had a much easier (and more modest) way to climb up to the third floor. Thank God, he was saved, they could just-

There was an Out of Order sign taped on the doors to the elevator. Yuuri stared at it for a good ten seconds in complete silence, a long, piercing scream echoing through his head. Why. Why today, of all days-

“Well, looks like it’s the stairs or nothing,” Victor said cheerfully. “Just walk in front of me, Yuuri. It’ll be okay. Or- ooh! I know, I could _carry_ you!”

“Why do you sound so excited about it?! That would be even _more_ revealing!” Yuuri hissed at him.

“Not if I carried you in my arms- oh.” Victor stopped, his cheeks turning a soft pink. “…Perhaps over my shoulder- no.” His cheeks darkened. “…Um, maybe on my back- wait.” His face was much redder now, and he cleared his throat roughly. The cold must have affected him more than he cared to admit, and he was flushing from the warmth of the building.

“It’s fine, I’ll walk.” Yuuri glanced around, relieved to see that most of the students had retreated to their own rooms, only a few stragglers wandering the lobby and stairwell. Phichit, of course, had left him high and dry. Or rather, half-naked and damp. Yuuri vowed to stick his cold feet on him the moment he got back to the room. “Let’s just hurry and get this over with. Come on.”

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri took firm hold of the jacket’s hem and began climbing the stairs, trying to ignore the cool air whisking up around his thighs with every step. Victor followed close behind, careful not to tread on his heels, murmuring soft encouragement as they went. Yuuri felt horribly guilty – poor Victor, stuck behind him like that, forced to stare at the back of his meaty thighs, which probably jiggled with every step. The dancing had helped shed the weight, sure, but there was a stubborn couple pounds that refused to leave, clinging to Yuuri’s thighs with their last dying breath. Yuuri vowed to show them no mercy when this was over – squats and lunges for a solid hour. Sure his legs would be limp noodles afterward, but he was sick and tired of-

“Oh shit! Baby got BACK!”

Victor whirled around, snarling out something guttural in Russian. The guy who’d shouted went dead white and nearly leapt back inside his room, slamming the door shut and locking it.

“Holy shit, what did you _say_ to him?” Yuuri whispered in awe, his eyes wide.

“I told him to have a very nice day,” Victor replied, grinning. “But he doesn’t need to know that. Let’s keep going.” He gave Yuuri’s back a gentle pat, dangerously close to his rear, and Yuuri was quick to obey with a startled yelp. He completed the rest of the climb in a rush, tripping a little on the lip of the final step.

Finally, finally, they reached Yuuri and Phichit’s room. Yuuri stopped in front of the door, not sure whether to ask Victor if he’d like to come in for a cup of disappointing microwaveable-tea or, no wait, he was pretty sure he’d left a ton of underwear out, he’d been doing laundry earlier that day and they were probably still hanging from the side of his bed like a banner-

“Um, do you want to go in and get changed?” Victor asked, startling Yuuri out of his mental debate. “Then I can take my jacket and-”

“What? NO!” Yuuri whirled around, sputtering. “At least let me, um, _wash_ it. It’s- I got my- it’s. _Dirty_. Please.”

“Well, technically, it’s not, because you were just in the shower-”

“I don’t care! I’m washing it!”

“Fine, fine.” Victor held up his hands in defeat, chuckling.

“Good.” Yuuri touched the door handle when something came to him. “Wait, hang on, how will I return it? I don’t even know your room or phone number-”

“Gotcha covered!” Phichit suddenly poked his head out the door, flashing him a thumbs-up. Yuuri’s phone was already in Victor’s slim hands. “Wing-man of the year, right here.”

“Oh my God, Phichit, what, were you standing behind the door the entire _time_ -”

“I am not ashamed.”

“Um, you have some photos up,” Victor said, his voice strangely warbly. Yuuri frowned.

“What do you-” he began, then cut off in a shriek. His photos folder was open to the images of him trying on a pair of booty-shorts at the mall – he’d wanted to see if they’d make his ass and thighs look slimmer. They hadn’t, but Yuuri had bought them anyway because they were comfortable as hell. But why on earth would his phone be open to- “Phichit, Godammit!” He quickly snatched his phone away. Victor didn’t even blink, just blankly stared at nothing with glazed eyes, his hand still raised. Poor guy was probably traumatized. Yuuri hurriedly opened his Contacts and handed the phone back to Victor. “Sorry, here.” Victor finally blinked, seemed to shake himself, and began entering his name and number.

“Oh, wait, you can do me at the same time.”

“ _WHAT_?!” Yuuri sputtered, then calmed down when he saw Victor reach into his back pocket and pull out his own phone. “…Oh.” He meekly took it, entered his name and number, and handed it back. Victor looked down and frowned.

“Who is Katsudon?” he asked, confused.

“It’s a Japanese dish, and Yuuri’s nickname,” Phichit helpfully supplied. “I’m sure you’d like to eat both-”

“ _PHICHIT_!!” Yuuri slammed the door closed, not caring if he got any fingers, and tried his best to smile apologetically. “He’s…just kidding. Don’t mind him.”

“I’d like to try it,” Victor said, and Yuuri choked. “The dish, I mean. I bet I’d like the taste.” Victor finished typing in his number, returning the phone to Yuuri with a flourish. He held it to his chest, a warm feeling blossoming in his stomach. “Well, I suppose I should be going now.”

The warm feeling promptly died with a gurgle and drained down into his toes, his hopes following close behind.

“…Right,” Yuuri said, his voice weak. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Right, right. Okay. Um, well. It was really nice to meet you, Victor.”

“Likewise.” Victor’s dazzling smile made Yuuri feel a little light-headed. “I hope to see more of you, Yuuri,” He stopped, blinking. “No. Wait. Not like that. I didn’t mean to imply...what I meant to say was-” He was blushing now, muttering to himself in Russian. It was so refreshing to see Victor be the one flustered, Yuuri couldn’t help it. He laughed, high and clear with delight.

“Thank you for the jacket,” he said gratefully, patting Victor’s arm- oh God, it really was all muscle, he could probably bench-press him- LATER, YUURI, LATER. He dragged his focus back to the matter at hand and not the wonderfully muscled matter beneath his hand. “It was very kind of you to offer it to me, I really appreciate it. I promise, you’ll _definitely_ be seeing a lot more of me.”

“I- uh- yes, s-sure, I’d like that,” Victor said, still a little unbalanced. He drew himself up and flashed that blinding smile again. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

“Goodnight, Victor.” Yuuri smiled back, warmly. He watched Victor turn and walk down the hallway to the stairs, his grin broadening when the other man turned to give him a little wave before disappearing down the stairs. Yuuri let out a long breath as he collapsed against the door, exhausted both physically and mentally. Had all that really just happened? It seemed almost unbelievable. He hugged Victor’s jacket close, shivering at the feel of the soft fabric on his bare skin and catching a whiff of his cologne, and knew it was true.

Yuuri really needed to thank Phichit.

Right after he killed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first Yuri on Ice fic, I hope you enjoyed it! Comments are welcome!


End file.
